


how thou shalt be kissed

by mittagsfrau



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26986102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau
Summary: Brock belongs to Alexander Pierce. For a night Jack and Brock try to forget about that. They will have to pay for this but not now.
Relationships: Alexander Pierce/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	how thou shalt be kissed

Only in the dark Brock is his. Here in the shadows they keep their secrets. Jack will forever adore the way his big hands span the small of Brock’s back, how he fits perfectly into his arms. When Jack kisses him, he doesn’t just kiss his navel, the hard shape of his sternum, his heartbeat and his soft sighs. He kisses Brock’s pain and bravery but also his doubts and faults. There might be no tomorrow but for a few hours they pretend to have all the time in the world. There is no place for pain or haste, no need to rush. It’s worship. Jack’s fingertips find new paths on the shifting landscape of Brock’s skin, his lips find all the places that make Brock writhe and moan.

Brock is a dense and solid weight pressing him into the mattress as he straddles him. In the near perfect dark his eyes are shadowed and his silhouette blocks the light from the window. He’s painfully perfect and Jack’s hands tremble as they reach out for him again. Brock is shaped by iron discipline, by the will to take control of his body that isn’t his to give away freely. He does so now, slowly sinking down on Jack. Inside he’s molten heat, tender and fragile and all Jack can do is to hold on, to caress his trembling thighs, to find purchase on Brock’s sharp hipbones before he falls.

Brock rolls his hips and Jack watches him bare his neck as he leans back. He doesn’t believe in a God or divinity at all but he prays now. Please God, don’t take him from me, please, I don’t deserve him but let him be mine as much as I am his. 

Jack gets distracted for a while by the way Brock’s sculpted abdominal muscles divide the shadows from the low light in rippling motions. He even forgets that he’s allowed to touch. Belatedly he does and misses how Brock smiles down on him. Then Brock braces his hands on Jack’s broad chest and makes him forget his own name, too. 

Later they will rest in a tangle of limbs and Jack will hold him close enough to almost hurt him. This is all they can have and they already stole this moment, playing a dangerous game. This illusion of freedom won’t keep until sunrise. What is left is to trade lazy kisses under the spray of the shower, chasing rivulets of water with their hands on each other’s skin until all traces of what they did in the dark is gone. 

In the harsh florescent light they will look like soldiers again, scarred and weary but Jack will kneel for him, kiss the feet, that will walk away from him, kiss those slender thighs and kiss the mark high up on the tender and pale inside of the left one. An eight armed beast that reigns them, branded into Brock’s skin. It’s a mark of ownership, raised scar tissue under Jack’s open mouth. It’s what connected them in the first place, what will separate them forever.

Brock belongs to someone else but him, did so since he was a teenage recruit. The man’s eyes are still as blue as they were all those years ago and still as cruel as they were when he put his signet ring to still untouched flesh, glowing red as the approach of sunrise and making the boy Brock once was scream. He took everything from Brock in that night, claimed what Brock didn’t want to give. 

With Jack holding him close he almost feels whole again. It’s an illusion, though. Order comes only through pain. He has learned his lessons but here in the small hours of the day Brock likes to pretend. In another life he would kiss Jack in the broad daylight and know no fear. 

Here and now he dresses silently with Jack watching him and walks away without looking back. Hail Hydra.


End file.
